


From Across the Room

by AlwaysMyChoices



Category: Open Heart (Visual Novels)
Genre: Break Up, F/M, Lost Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25815313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysMyChoices/pseuds/AlwaysMyChoices
Summary: Charlie Green and Ethan Ramsey fell in love, and after years together, they fell apart when it became clear they wanted very different futures. But when they have a chance encounter years later, maybe it’s not all in the past…
Relationships: Ethan Ramsey/Main Character (Open Heart)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	From Across the Room

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from Taylor Swift's song, "Exile."

**_“From Across the Room”_ **

I would love to say that I fell in love with Ethan Ramsey the day I met him, but that would be a lie. The first time I laid eyes on him, I thought he was the most handsome man I had ever seen, but as soon as he opened his mouth, I thought he was the rudest, most arrogant asshole I’d ever been forced to interact with. I spent the rest of the week fuming and staring from afar, hating him with such passion that it buried my instant adoration.

But in moments of vulnerability and shared secret smiles, I fell in love with him.

And for some time, we were happy — the kind of bright, beautiful happiness that painted every memory in a golden haze.

I still remember our time together with soft, warm smiles and fluttering butterflies in my stomach.

We got an apartment together where we cooked fancy dinners, painted walls, and printed our favorite memories on photos that we displayed all over our home. On weeknights, we read medical journals on our couch with our dog between us, and on weekends, we woke early enough to wander the farmers market. We took up jogging together in the mornings and shared mystery novels in our spare time.

It was perfect.

We fought, of course. We disagreed about the shade of blue we should paint the bathroom and how protective I should be of my career. He thought I was impulsive, and I thought he was too set in his ways. But our fights never lasted long enough to mean something.

The itch came on slowly. It took me several years to realize that, as much as I loved my life, I still craved more.

Sometimes, late at night, I regret it. I wish I could have been satisfied, that I could have just maintained our happiness.

In the end, I couldn’t help wanting more.

I wanted a family. I wanted a house with a yard. I wanted to leave work early to read bedtime stories to my child and spend my Saturdays cheering on soccer games. I wanted sleepless nights where I balanced my demanding career with my desire for a family.

But Ethan _didn’t_ want more.

He was happy. He had a loving relationship and a career he valued. What we had now was everything he ever wanted but never expected to have.

He understood what I wanted, but he couldn’t give it to me. And I understood why he couldn’t. I couldn’t make him want something, and I couldn’t force him into a life he didn’t desire. It wasn’t fair to him, me, or a potential child.

We tried very, very hard to hold on. We took extra vacations and talked late into the night, hoping that communication and quality time could save us. We toured townhomes in search of a compromise, and we submitted an application to foster rescue dogs.

But it wasn’t enough, and once the cracks settled in, they began to spread.

I wanted more than he could give, and he begrudged me for it. I resented him for resenting me and for not sharing my visions of the future. The love that we shared, as strong as it was, was clouded.

The end came slowly and painfully. We stopped fighting solely because we stopped speaking. We went days without as much as a shared glance, and as winter fell, our relationship went cold and lifeless.

On our seventh anniversary, I was thousands of miles away from Ethan. I was in California, interviewing for a job. Ethan and I were both offered positions, and we saw it as a new opportunity to revitalize our lives and start over again. But really, we always knew that Ethan wouldn’t leave Boston. He didn’t even come with me to visit San Francisco or meet the team we were offered to lead.

Six months later, I was still in San Francisco, and Ethan wasn’t with me.

For the first year, I waited for him to follow me here, and often, I eyed plane tickets, imagining my own grand gesture. I called him late at night, just to hear his voice, and sometimes, he would call me with a consultation for a patient. Rarely was it a real mystery that required my help. I think he just wanted to hear from me, too.

But nothing had really changed. I still wanted a family, and he didn’t.

So, I made a new life.

I bought an apartment and adopted a dog, and I made friends. I went to parks and parties and coffee shops, and I was happy, even if I kept Ethan on my speed dial.

I was introduced to Dr. Mark Williams at a fundraiser. A week later, I met him at a trendy restaurant for our first date, and by the end of the year, he was on one knee, presenting a sparkling engagement ring. I said yes, even if I secretly wished it was Ethan standing in front of me.

Mark and I agreed on everything. We wanted children and dogs and little league games, and we were already looking for a home to build our future.

It was perfect.

Or it should have been…

Sometimes, I still felt like something was missing, something I hadn’t felt since Boston.

Not that I ever said, nor even admitted to myself.

It was easy to pretend that Ethan Ramsey was a part of my past. He was thousands of miles away, and I hadn’t seen him in so long that, if I tried hard enough, I could make his memory hazy. On a good day, I didn’t think about him at all. 

But tonight was different.

Tonight, I couldn’t pretend — not when I was so close.

For the first time in over a year, I was in the same room as Ethan Ramsey, and I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t stop looking over at him, craning my head to catch sight of him in the crowded conference. I was on Mark’s arm, but I could only see Ethan.

Someone was talking — maybe even to me — but I didn’t hear it.

Not until I heard my name.

“Charlotte.”

I jumped, startled into the present. I tore my eyes away from Ethan to find Mark and another man facing me. I vaguely recognized the man as Mark’s friend from medical school that we had met this morning when we signed into the conference, but I’d been so distracted by Ethan that I didn’t notice him approach us now.

“Damon has some intriguing research he wants to share from one of the exhibits. Do you want to come with us, Charlotte?” Mark asked, squeezing my arm.

_Charlotte._

Mark called me Charlotte. Something about hearing it in the presence of Ethan made it feel cold and formal.

As soon as the thought registered, I felt a wave of guilt.

I was _engaged_ to Mark. He was compassionate and kind, and he wanted a family just as badly as I did. He was my future, and Ethan was my past.

I just needed to remember that.

“I’ll let you two go ahead. I’ll catch up later,” I encouraged my fiancé and his friend to go on without me, hoping to clear my head and regain my composure in their absence.

I was a grown woman. I was well-respected and responsible. I was not the kind to remain lovesick and obsessed with a former boyfriend.

I needed to control myself.

With my back safely to Ethan, I wandered through the conference, finding comfort in unfamiliar faces. I felt safe in the ambiguity. Few people here knew me, and even fewer knew my complicated history with Ethan. Every step felt like a new beginning, a world where I could write my own future without being unnumbered by my past.

Of course, it had a habit of following me.

I could run to a new city with a new job and a new lover, but I always found Ethan. Or he found me.

Even in a sea of strangers and their disinterested gazes, I saw him immediately. His blue eyes were piercing and determined. I felt like he was looking for me, pulling me to him until I found him in return.

He looked the same, if a bit older. The same haircut, the same hard expression to ward off fans tempted to approach him. He stood taller than the rest, a beacon of intelligence and arrogance. And he was looking at me.

This close, the distance and time between us felt so small. I could forget that we lived on different sides of the country. I could forget the months of fighting and the breakup and our time apart. I could forget the lives we built apart from each other. I could forget everything but how much I loved him.

I imagined going to him, forgetting and forgiving everything we did to each other. I thought about running away from my life – from California, from Mark, from everything. I pictured my life back in Boston, in that apartment we shared with all of our friends.

And the daydream was all so… so tempting.

So beautiful. So sweet. So nostalgic and wonderful.

He felt like home.

And right now, I just wanted to go home…

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman approach Ethan. She was young, probably just an intern. Her hands were full of pamphlets and journals, and I decided that she was probably his newest protégé. I felt a sense of relief when he looked down at her and lacked any obvious romantic attachment — not that it was my place to be relieved. I was engaged to another man after all. Who was I to judge if Ethan found someone else, too?

But even as I tried to write it off, I knew that I didn’t want him to find someone else. I wanted him to still be mine, even if I told myself that I didn’t want to be his.

From across the room, Ethan dropped his gaze, whispering something to his protégé. They spoke for a moment, but I couldn’t will myself to look away. I feared that, if I dropped his gaze now, I might not ever find it again. Once they concluded their discussion, his assistant walked away, and his eyes immediately returned to mine.

With a sad smile, he motioned away, signaling that he had to leave. There was something else in his eyes, a silent offer to accompany him.

I could have followed.

I could have moved through the crowd and rewritten my future.

But instead, I shook my head, even if it killed me to do so.

I whispered softly, knowing he couldn’t hear me as I explained, “ **You aren’t my homeland anymore.** ”

Before I could change my mind, I walked away.

I thought it would feel freeing, like a final goodbye after nearly a decade of shared affection. I expected to feel confident in my decision. I thought I would walk into my future knowing that I was on the right path.

But as a wiped away my tears, I felt less sure than ever that Ethan was just a part of my past…


End file.
